Here in the Cage
by ifan13
Summary: After 321 years in hell, what does Adam Milligan's soul look like? Written for the "Adam's Soul Contest" on adamsstillinthepit's tumblr to commemorate Adam's 1000 days in the Cage anniversary.


**A/N: **Hey! Ok, so, brief update on my fandom life - about 3 months ago, I discovered Supernatural. Since then, I have watched all the episodes, consumed copious amounts of fanfiction, and cried my heart out over Dean, Sam, Cas, and pretty much everyone else on that show. So, yes, I am completely obsessed. Anyway, about this fic ... I wrote this for a contest/prompt on tumblr. The prompt was to write a description of Adam's soul after spending 1000 days in the Cage (also known as 321 Hell Years). (His 1000th day actually takes place on February 6, for anyone who's interested. I can't believe he's been there for so long!) This is kind of an unconventional way of fulfilling that prompt, but I hope y'all like it all the same.

**Disclaimer: **I in no way own Supernatural (brilliant show that it is) or the character of Adam Milligan (if I was in charge of what happened to Adam, Sam and Dean would have tried to rescue him a long time ago).

**Here in the Cage**

On Earth, there are people who are blind. And I never wanted to be one of them – I never wanted to lose my sight. Losing my sight would mean never seeing my mom smile when I walked through the door again, never being able to survey the gorgeous curves of that girl in Econ class again, never being able cream my friends in a pickup game of basketball again.

On Earth, there are people who can't smell. And I never wanted to be one of them – I never wanted to lose my sense of smell. Losing my sense of smell would mean never being able to know when it was going to rain just by how the world smelt again, never being able to tell my girlfriend's mood by the type of perfume she wore again, never being able to draw comfort from that smell that is distinctly _home_ again.

On Earth, there are people who are deaf. And, I never wanted to be one of them – I never wanted to lose my hearing. Losing my hearing would mean never being able to hear the sweet sounds of Led Zeppelin again, never being able to know when my girlfriend was calling out my name and asking for _more_ again, never being able to hear my mom laugh at one of my corny jokes again.

On Earth, there are people who can't taste. And I never wanted to be one of them – I never wanted to lose my sense of taste. Losing my sense of taste would mean never being able to savor a piece of my mom's heavenly apple pie again, never being able to taste the tang of steak grilled over a charcoal fire with my friends again, never being able to taste the first snow like a little kid again.

On Earth, there are people who can't feel. And I never wanted to be one of them – I never wanted to lose my sense of feeling. Losing my sense of feeling would mean never being able to know when to stop again, never feeling the smoothness of a woman's skin again, never being taught and overcoming boundaries from pain again.

On Earth, there are people who want to die. And I never wanted to be one of them – I never wanted to lose my will to live. Killing myself would mean never being able to see my friends or family again, never being able to make a difference again, never being able to love again.

Killing myself would mean giving up, and I was not the kind of person to give up.

Here in the Cage, I wish I was blind. If I were blind, I would never have to see my own limbs ripped off my body again, never have to see the faces of my sadistic tormenters again, never have to see myself tremble with fear as each round of torture starts again.

Here in the Cage, I wish I couldn't smell a thing. If I couldn't smell, I would never have to smell the stench of my burnt flesh again, never have to smell that distinct scent that I have come to associate with my torturers again, never have to smell my very fear again.

Here in the Cage, I wish I was deaf. If I were deaf, I would never have to hear the sound of my own bones cracking again, never have to hear two archangels laugh at my pain again, never have to hear the screams ripped from my throat as my body is mutilated again.

Here in the Cage, I wish I couldn't taste a thing. If I couldn't taste, I would never have to taste the blood that always seems to be in my mouth again, never have to taste the spittle of two fallen beings as they scream curses at me again, never have to taste the tears that constantly fall down my face again.

Here in the Cage, I wish I couldn't feel a thing. If I couldn't feel, I would never have to feel the tortures again, never have to feel the two brothers' hands on me again, never have to feel my body turn against me again.

Here in the Cage, I wish I could die. If I were dead, I would never be tormented again, never be under the power of Michael and Lucifer again, never be hurt again.

Being dead would mean giving up, and I was never the type of person to give up. Giving up would mean an end to it all and on Earth, I rebelled against that.

Being dead would mean giving up, and I have become the type of person who is willing to give up – who wants to give up. Giving up would mean the end to it all and here in the Cage, I wish for that end to come.

On Earth, I was a man. I stood for something. I was strong. I persevered.

Here in the Cage, I am a wounded animal. I stand for nothing. I am weak. I wish to give up.

But none of that matters. It doesn't matter that I never wish to see, smell, hear, taste, or feel again. I still see, smell, hear, taste, and feel.

It doesn't matter that I wish to die. I am still alive.

It doesn't matter that I wish to give up. I can give up all I want – it won't end.

It will never end.

**A/N:** Well, I hope that everyone liked that - it was my first excursion into Supernatural fanfiction. Let me know what you thought! Drop me a review! You know you want to ...


End file.
